


The Important Thing Is Not To Panic

by MsGordo_Writings



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, M/M, mentions of Justin/Ethan
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-30
Updated: 2020-01-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:54:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22483693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsGordo_Writings/pseuds/MsGordo_Writings
Summary: Brian isn’t panicking. Molly and Daphne are helping with this endeavor.
Relationships: Ben Bruckner/Michael Novotny, Brian Kinney/Justin Taylor (Queer as Folk)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	The Important Thing Is Not To Panic

**Author's Note:**

> This work belongs to MsGordo (https://archiveofourown.org/users/kipplemine/profile) and has been posted with her express permission in order to preserve it from Yahoo Groups. If I have missed any tags or warnings, please feel free to let me know.

Title: The Important Thing Is Not To Panic  
Author: msgordo  
E-Mail: msgordo3@hotmail.com  
Pairing: B/J  
Disclaimer: Not mine, not a one  
Warnings: J/E and pro-Michael.  
Synopsis: Brian isn’t panicking. Molly and Daphne are helping with this endeavor.  
A/N: This is my first QAF fic so please be generous in suspending your disbelief until I get more of a handle on the characters. Also, although I can appreciate the ‘Mikey-is-the-devil’ fics as much as the next girl, it is only fair to warn you that he won’t be that way in any fics that I may write concerning B/J. I actually quite like the character, despite his many flaws, and I want to treat him with as much respect as I would do Brian or Justin so if you are an out-and-out Michael hater this really isn’t the fic for you.

~*~*~*

Michael Novotny opened the door to his apartment and stared out in confusion at the empty hall looking for the source of the knock that had roused him from his couch. Then his nose twitched as the unmistakable smell of a large amount of alcohol hit him and he looked down at the floor. “Oh Christ.”

Brian Kinney – his erstwhile best friend and previous unrequited love interest – blinked owlishly up at him and waved the nearly empty whisky bottle he was clutching at him in greeting from where he lay slumped awkwardly on the ground. “M’key.”

“Brian.” Michael crouched down on his haunches and looked into his friend’s bleary eyes. “What’s happened?”

Brian grinned sloppily at his best friend and – after several failed attempts – managed to hook a heavy arm around his friend’s neck. “S’okay, Mikey, don’t panic.”

“Michael?” Michael turned awkwardly at the sound of his boyfriend Ben’s voice and rolled his eyes wryly as the older man stared down at the couple on the floor. “What are you doing?”

“Not panicking apparently.” Michael grunted as he tried to get a shoulder under Brian’s armpit and lever him to his feet. “Can you give me a hand with him, please?”

“S’time, Mikey.” Brian tried to focus on his best friend’s face as Ben hoisted him none too gently to his feet and helped Michael drag him inside. “S’our time now. M’ready.”

Ben screwed up his face in disgust at the alcoholic fumes that surrounded them in a potent cloud as Brian spoke and looked over the man’s drooping head at Michael as the smaller man stumbled along trying to support Brian’s dead weight. “What’s he talking about?”

Michael wheezed slightly as Brian’s knees gave out and then he watched as his best friend slid ungracefully out of the arms holding him and ended up on the floor and drooling on his foot. “I have no idea.” He bent at the waist as Ben trudged back to the front door to close it and then trudged back again and poked Brian’s shoulder. “Brian? Brian!” He waited until two hazel eyes blinked up at him and then said, “What are you ready for, Brian?”

“For us.” Brian raised his woozy head and glared imperiously down his nose at Ben’s left kneecap. “You can go now. S’plus to requ…red…” He scowled harder at Ben’s leg as he finally found something he couldn’t wrap his infamous tongue around. “We don’t need you anymore.” His head fell back to the floor with a thump as he finished triumphantly. “S’just me n’ Mikey now, jus’ the way it should be.”

Michael looked at Brian – once more dribbling on his foot – and then up at Ben. “Huh.” Despite himself he felt a brief thrill run through him at the thought of Brian finally claiming him just like he’d always dreamed and then he felt a much bigger one run through him as he looked into Ben’s much loved face. “Y’know, all the times I pictured this happening, it was never like this.” He looked down with a faint look of disgust. “And there was much less drool involved.”

Brian snuggled closer to his best friend’s foot. “Jus’ me n’ Mikey. Mikey n’ Brian…”

“And Ben.” Ben crossed his arms over his formidable chest and glowered at his boyfriend and the sad mess on the floor that was Brian Kinney. “Brian, Michael and *Ben*.”

Brian shook his confused head. “Nope. Not Ben. Jus’ us.” His eyes closed sadly. “Just me n’ Mikey now.”

Michael sighed and bent to stroke his hand briefly over Brian’s tousled head. “I think he needs to be sick.”

Ben snorted irritably. “He’s not the only one.”

“I *meant* that he needs to get whatever he’s taken tonight out of his system and then he’ll feel better.” Michael send a faintly condemning look Ben’s way and continued to stroke Brian’s hair. “He might be a bit more lucid.”

Ben rolled his eyes and crouched down on Brian’s other side, charitably ignoring the annoyed slap to his ankle from the drunken man as he tried to push him away. “I doubt that, Michael. Lucid and heterosexuality are both things that I have never associated with Brian Kinney.”

“That’s not fair.” Michael ignored the pungent evidence to the contrary at his feet and glared at Ben. “Brian is very…”

“Drunk, Michael.” Ben raised a challenging eyebrow and then looked down at Brian. “Brian is very drunk and I think he should go home and be very drunk there. This is not our problem.” His face darkened as he saw that Brian had managed to coordinate one hand to insinuate it between Michael’s thighs and wriggle it suggestively as the smaller man tried valiantly to ignore it. “He should also stop fondling my fucking boyfriend before I change my mind about calling his ass a taxi and just fucking kick it back to his loft.”

Michael batted Brian’s hand away and sighed softly, “Ben, he’s my best friend.”

“S’right.” Moving past drunken complacency, Brian slid effortlessly into drunken belligerence. “Best friends. Fuck off.” His hand came up again and he tooted the unprotected bulge in Michael’s pants with a smirk. “S’all mine.”

“Okay, that’s it, time to go.” Ben scowled fiercely and got to his feet before bending to yank Brian to his. “You are fucking *gone*, pal.”

Brian shoved him away and stumbled back, nearly cracking his head off the wall. “Yeah?” He took a wild swing at the three Bens he could see closing in on him and fell flat on his face. “Ow.”

Michael stared down in slack jawed astonishment at Brian laying face down on the floor and then up at Ben towering over the pair of them. “What the *fuck* was that?”

Ben threw his arms up in the air in disgust. “For God’s sake, Michael, he started it!”

“Not that.” Michael stood up and edged away from Brian still sprawled on the floor and then stared down at his own groin. “He touched me.” He darted a confused look back at Brian again. “He never touches me like that. We have a line. We don’t cross it.”

“Do.” The mumble from the floor had both the non-drunken people in the room focusing on the lone very drunken one. “Can cross it now.” A mournful sigh sounded. “S’gone. Nothin’s stopping us now.”

Ben looped an arm over Michael’s shoulder and squeezed him to his side possessively. “Except me. Michael’s with me now.” He peered down at Brian’s bleary face as it tried to focus on him and sighed in irritation, “Remember? I’m Ben, the guy that’s dating your best friend.”

Michael rolled his eyes to himself and wondered briefly if Ben would like to pee on his leg just to save time and then looked down at Brian and narrowed his eyes in confusion. “Uh, Bri? What was stopping us before?” He glanced up at Ben as he felt the older man tense and nudged him in the ribs with a less than gentle elbow. “Oh relax, you know I want you. I’m just curious.”

Brian rolled over on his back and stared with bloodshot eyes up at the ceiling as he proceeded to demonstrate just how drunk and high he was and let the walls that had held him together all his life come crashing down. “He was always there…” A look of staggering vulnerability crossed his face as he tried to focus on Michael and Ben above him. “But he’s gone, Mikey. It’s just you an’ me now. Just us…”

“Justin.” Michael’s breath left him on a hiss and he blinked in surprise down at Brian. “This is because of Justin.”

Brian nodded his spinning head and had time to confirm with a whispered, “Justin,” before he turned his head and vomited all over the carpet.

“Christ!” Ben jumped back out of range and pulled Michael with him before giving a wry shrug as he stared down at Brian heaving all over himself and the floor. “Oh well, at least we don’t have to take him to get his stomach pumped.” 

~*~*~*

When Brian finally opened his bleary eyes the next morning it was to find that he was in hell. And that hell apparently supplied ugly-ass sofas in dubious colors and cheap blends of materials for the condemned to spend eternity on. “Gah!” Brian shoved himself away from the sofa cushion his nose was pressed against and tumbled painfully to the floor. “GAH!”

“Oh good,” A minion of the devil who bore a remarkable resemblance to Ben ‘Novotny-fucker’ Brucker appeared in Brian’s unfocused and panicked line of vision and peered unenthusiastically down at him. “You’re awake. And not dead. I suppose Michael will be pleased.” The Novotny-fucking minion poked Brian’s shoulder unnecessarily hard with his trainer-clad foot. “Get up and get out.”

Brian swallowed and tried to ease his tongue around whatever had died in his mouth as he tried to lubricate his ridiculously dry mouth. “Gah?”

The minion nodded in solemn agreement. “Yeah, you’re a fucking bastard. A *stinking* fucking bastard.” 

Brian frowned. He had always understood that when he eventually arrived in hell after he got shuffled off the mortal coil it wouldn’t be exactly pleasant but he felt that making such personal comments was a taking things a bit too far. “Uh!”

The minion smiled unpleasantly at the offended look on Brian’s face. “A *wrinkled* stinking fucking bastard.”

“UH!” Brian’s hands rose to clutch at his face even as his head pounded in protest at the panicked jerking of his body. “No!”  
The minion was *really* good at this torment of the damned thing, Brian decided. He watched in helpless dread as the awful creature bent down and hissed with malicious glee, “And you’re going gray!”

“BEN!” Michael torn between guilty laughter and pity at the horrified look on Brian’s face where he lay sprawled on the floor, hastened towards his friend and his boyfriend as he came out of the kitchen carrying a mug of coffee and looked reprovingly at Ben’s unrepentant face. “That was mean. He’s not well.”

Ben chuckled shamelessly. “And that’s what makes it so funny.” He flashed a grin down at Brian and then dropped a kiss on Michael’s head. “I’m heading out for a run. He’ll be gone when I get back.”

Michael rolled his eyes wryly at Ben’s firm statement. “Yes, dear.” He smiled up at Ben’s face and smiled winningly. “The absolute minute he can get stand up under his own power and walk without falling over, he’s gone.”

Ben glanced down at Brian – still trying to pat worriedly at his face – and then looked back at Michael before conceding in gloomy defeat. “I’ll see you both in a while.” He stalked off towards the door. “At least get him hosed off before I get back. It smells like something died in here.”

Michael winced as the door slammed and looked down at the groan of pained protest from Brian at the noise. “Oh yeah, my ass is *so* paying the price for this tonight.” He sighed and bent down to awkwardly grab Brian under his arms and heave him up onto the sofa. “Come on, up you…oof…go!” His back twinged in protest as he hefted Brian’s dead weight up and face down onto the cushions, his long legs hanging in uncomfortable abandon on the floor. Michael let go and stepped back to stare down at the back of Brian’s head. “Okay. Better.”

Brian moaned into the cushion plaintively and mumbled some almost unintelligible words.

Michael leaned forwards again and listened intently to the confused jumble of sound and then his lips twitched in an unwilling smile. “No, you’re not dead.” His lips twitched again as Brian mumbled something else. “*Or* gray and wrinkled. You’re fine. Same old Brian you always were.” 

From the prolonged silence that filled the apartment the jury was still out on whether or not this was a good thing.

Michael sighed and figured he may as well get all the bad news out of the way in one hit. “And last night when you got here you were kinda…unwell.” He laid a soothing hand on the back of Brian’s head and said with deep compassion, “I’m sorry, Bri, your Prada jacket’s gone. There was nothing we could do.” His hand flexed in the slightly grungy locks of Brian’s hair as he saw the other man tense and he finished in a rush, “The Armani pants and shirt bought it as well. We saved the socks and briefs though.” He stroked his hand soothingly over Brian’s scalp and whispered, “Brian, we didn’t have any choice, we had to find you something to sleep in. I want you to be brave; I’m sorry, pal, you’re wearing Ben’s Big Q pyjamas.”

A pitiful keening arose from the sofa and Brian’s head shook weakly back and forth in denial of his devastating loss.

Michael winced in sympathy and slowly straightened up again. “You probably need a moment alone.” He backed away from Brian’s pitifully shuddering body and headed for the bathroom. “You’ll feel better once you freshen up. You can borrow some of Ben’s sweats.”

Michael wasn’t sure but he thought he heard Brian sob as he gently closed the bathroom door behind him.

~*~*~*

An hour later a still damp and bedraggled Brian sat staring morosely into the cup of coffee sitting before him at Mikey’s kitchen table desperately trying to ignore both Michael and Ben and the fact that he was wearing an extremely worn pair of gray sweatpants and a faded orange t-shirt with the legend ‘Buddhists Do It With Yoga!’ emblazoned across his chest.

Michael was doing his best to get his friend to open up and talk to him -- to really *share* his pain -- and his endeavors were not been aided by the way his previously sensitive and in touch with his emotions boyfriend kept darting sly looks at Brian and the t-shirt he was wearing and sniggering into his breakfast of scrambled eggs and whole-wheat toast. “Brian,” Michael paused as Ben bent his head and chuckled his way through a mouthful of eggs, “Brian, you have to stop this. I know Justin hurt you when he left, but…”

“Fuck off, Mikey.” Brian stared in determination at his coffee and silently plotted all the ways he could steal Zen Ben’s medication and expose him to every easily communicable illness between Pittsburgh and New York. “I’m fine. Justin’s fine. You’re fine. We’re all *fine*.”

Except for Zen Ben who would shortly be spending eternity facing upwards in a tight fitting wooden box if Brian had anything to say about it.

Michael sighed wearily. “People who are fine do not show up at my door at one in the fucking morning, hit on me and then puke all over my floor.”

Brian looked up from his coffee and stared with bloodshot eyes at his friend. “I puked on the floor too?” 

Michael pointed dramatically to the offensively large stain on his carpet that lingered from the night before despite all his and Ben’s combined best efforts. Brian squinted dubiously at the stain. “Oh. I thought it was meant to be that color.” He rolled his eyes at Michael’s indignant huff and then winced in pain. “Fuck! Relax, Suzy Homemaker, okay? I’ll buy you a new fucking rug.” He looked in pained disbelief at the rest of the apartment. “Actually let’s just torch this pit and I’ll just buy you somewhere fucking else to live.” He glared darkly at Ben. “And a whole new wardrobe.”

Ben looked up from his eggs and grinned. “I think you look *fabulous*.”

Brian narrowed his eyes. “I hope you die.”

“Brian!” Michael slapped at Brian’s arm in horror. “Don’t say that.”

Brian grunted and looked back down at his coffee, unrepentant. “Can I think it?” He frowned suddenly as something else Michael had said registered. “Wait a minute, I *hit* on you?”

Michael nodded. “Uh-huh.” He smiled forgivingly at Brian’s horrified expression. “There was also some groping.”

“Christ!” Well, that certainly explained Zen Ben’s complete one eighty from love-everyone-on-the-face-of-the-fucking-planet to die-Kinney-die-die-DIE! Brian’s face screwed up in appalled disgust. “What the fuck did I *take* last night?”

Michael rolled his eyes and ignored Ben puffing up in indignation on his behalf on the other side of the table. “Yeah, that’s kinda what I want to know.” He reached out to lay a hand on Brian’s tense arm and said gently, “Now do you see why I’m so worried about you?”

Brian’s face softened for a moment before it rearranged itself into its habitual smirk. “Nothing to be worried about, Mikey. Like the Horny Professor said, I’m fabulous.”

“Brian,” Michael sighed as Brian moved his arm out from under his hand and said impatiently, “I *know* this is about Justin, okay? You told us last night, you don’t have to pretend with us.” He reached out for his friend once more. “You can talk to me.”

“Mikey,” Brain shoved back from the table and got to his feet, swaying slightly but managing to right himself by gripping the table edge in a white-knuckled grip. “I’m only going to say this once so you’d better listen, okay? I. Am. Fine. I am so fine that I don’t even remember what what’s-his-name looks like.”

Ben nodded wisely into his breakfast. “That’ll be the drugs. They take a while to leave the system.”

Michael glared at Brian. “His name is *Justin* and he’s about this high,” Michael waved his arm approximately two feet above the floor, “He’s blond, has *ridiculously* white teeth and for the past two years he’s been attached at the ass to your COCK.” His arm stopped waving to indicate a person who would be dwarfed by Mini-Me and thumped down on the table in emphasis. “And he broke your heart!”

Brian glared back. “Then I know you have me mixed up with someone else. I don’t *have* a heart.” He spun away from the table and stalked off towards the door.

Ben cocked his head as Brian’s offended stalk had a disastrous effect on his borrowed sweats and the material slipped off his fantastically svelte hips to puddle around his knees and hobble his still wobbly legs so he fell face down on the floor with a pained grunt, bare butt on display for all to see. “And your ass is starting to sag.” He glanced back at Michael hopefully. “Any more eggs?”

~*~*~*

The following Saturday morning Brian was in the loft staring moodily out of the window at nothing in particular and nursing yet another impressive hangover when his phone rang – although thankfully this time he was suffering without the added humiliation of coming onto Michael and having Ben torment him in a most un-Zen like fashion. Without taking his eyes off the gray sky outside he reached for the handset and pressed the connect button. “What?”

There was a startled silence at the other end of the line and then a hesitant voice said, “Brian?”

Brian frowned at the sound of a young girl’s voice and sat up a little straighter. “Yeah. Who is this?”

There was another little silence and then the voice came with a little more confidence. “Molly. Justin’s sis…”

Now bolt upright on the sofa and clutching the phone in his white knuckled hand, Brian interrupted harshly, “Yeah, I know, Justin’s sister. What’s the matter, is Justin alright?” He felt his heart slam against his ribs as Molly hesitated yet again and his voice rose in a yell. “For fucks sake, Molly, what’s wrong? What’s happened to Justin?”

“Nothing!” Molly sounded frightened now and Brian tried to get a grip on his emotions as he realized scaring the crap out of a little girl was unlikely to get him anything more than the phone slammed down and a possible aneurysm as he fretted over whatever Molly had called him about. “Nothing, Justin’s fine. I’m sorry, I’ll go. I didn’t mean to bother you.”

“NO!” Brian gritted his teeth and forced himself to lower his voice. “No, Molly, don’t go. I’m sorry, you just worried me a little. What’s wrong?”

At the other end of the line Molly was obviously weighing up her options and the pause was the longest yet before Brian heard a deep, girlish breath being taken. “I wanted to make sure you were okay. Justin brought his new boyfriend to see Mom and he said he didn’t see you anymore and I liked you better than I liked Ethan.” A definite note of petulance entered the more confident voice. “He gave me candy and petted my hair.”

Brian surprised himself by being able to laugh despite his still pounding heart and the bile that rose automatically in his throat at the mention of Ethan’s name. “The swine.”

“It’s not funny!” Completely over her fright, Molly’s strident reply had Brian wincing and moving the phone hastily away from his ear. “He treated me like a kid!”

Even though said kid couldn’t possibly see the highly amused smirk on his face, Brian found himself covering his mouth for a moment before he replied seriously, “At least I only gave you cash and told you to fuck off.”

Vastly relieved Brian got it, Molly sighed dramatically, “Exactly.” There was the sound of another sigh, this one slightly more wistful. “I *like* cash.”

Nothing could have stopped the burst of laughter from Brian at the young girl’s words. “Molly, darling, you’re a girl after my own heart. If I had one.” He closed his eyes and rubbed one hand over the still thumping beat in his chest which was proving him wrong with every second that passed. “Which I don’t.”

Molly giggled and then said hesitantly, “Brian, will you ask Justin to come home? I don’t think he’s very happy and I know he misses you.”

For a moment confused as to what Molly was talking about, Brian opened his eyes and sighed himself. “Molly, I can’t ask Justin to come home, this isn’t his home anymore. He belongs with Ethan.”

“He does not!” Molly sucked in a bracing breath and blurted, “Ethan’s a fucking jerk!”

“Molly!” Brian’s eyes opened wide with shock at the expletive and then he promptly collapsed with laughter when he had a mental flash of Molly sitting in her pretty pink bedroom and crouching on her bed as she stared at the ceiling and waited for a bolt of lightening to strike her down. “Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?”

Nervous laughter floated down the phone line, “You won’t tell her I cursed will you, Brian?”

Still snorting with laughter, Brian scrubbed a hand over his eyes and shook his head. “Molly, sweetheart, I think I’ve had enough problems with your mother over Justin without telling her that I’ve ruined her other kid as well. Don’t worry, it’ll be our little secret.” Another silence stretched out and then cursing himself silently for being ten times of fool Brian muttered reluctantly, “Why don’t you think Justin is happy, Molly?”

“Duh, because he’s not with you, Brian!” Sounding alarmingly like Debbie – although thankfully without more cursing – Justin’s sister snorted irritably down the phone. “He was smiling and laughing at Ethan’s jokes -- which were *beyond* lame – but he didn’t laugh like when you used to be there. And he doesn’t hold hands with Ethan, or kiss him and when Ethan makes him he looks a little sad sometimes.”

Brian bolted upright again, visions of his little Sunshine being abused and beaten bloody rampaging through his pounding head and giving him all kinds of uncharacteristically heroic and noble thoughts. “What do you mean Ethan fucking *makes* him?”

Sounding a little put out, Molly replied, “Hey, if I’m not allowed to curse, neither are you! And I don’t mean that he’s mean to Justin or anything, he just always touches him and stuff and sometimes Justin looks…”

“Sad. I got it.” Brian finished the sentence for Molly and pinched the bridge of his nose hard between his fingers. “And Molly, if you’re going to talk about Justin’s boyfriend to me, don’t use his name, okay? Call him…” An unholy grin spread across his face and he chuckled to himself. “Call him the fucking fiddler, okay? I’ll give you a get out of jail free card for the cursing.”

“Okay.” Molly’s delighted giggle had Brian closing his eyes in longing when it conjured up memories of another Taylor laughing in his ear – but for far less innocent reasons – and then her next comment had his face twisting in pain. “Well the fucking fiddler’s a moron and I don’t like him. He sucks up to my mom and he sucks up to me and every time Justin spends the night here he’s always calling and stuff and being…”

Brian’s eyes snapped open and his fingers clutched so hard at the phone it was a miracle he didn’t crack the plastic casing. “Wait a minute, Justin’s staying with you? I thought he lived with the fiddler?”

The sound of a very irritated sigh drifted over the phone line. “Brian, are you *listening* to me? Justin stays here and he stays at Daphne’s – she hates the fiddler too – but he doesn’t live with Et…the fucking fiddler because that’s not his *home*, his home is with *you* and he’s really sad. You have to do something!”

“No I fucking don’t, Justin wants to be with the fiddler, Molly. If he wanted me then he would have stayed.” Brian’s angry shout echoed off the high ceiling of the loft and he winced as his hangover surged to violent life once more. “I’m fucking glad he’s gone! My life can finally start getting back to normal and…” He stopped shouting as he caught the sound of a stuttering breath down the phone line. “Molly?” His eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Are you crying?”

“N…no.” Another suspect breath came floating down the wire before heartbreaking sobs burst forth into Brian’s reluctant ear. “Daphne’s right, you are mean!”

Brain squeezed his eyes shut and squirmed in a manner most unlike the most feared man on Liberty Avenue. “Shit. Look, Molly…”

“And…and you’re a fucking *twat*!”

Brain flinched at the high-pitched yell of defiant outrage as Molly slammed down the phone over the other side of town. He stared open-mouthed at the phone in his hand. “Well, fuck.” Then he cringed as he imagined Jennifer Taylor’s reaction to the filth that had just come out of her innocent little girl’s mouth. “People have *got* to start watching what they say around that kid.”

He stared blankly at the phone some more and then tossed it onto the couch with a shrug. What the fuck did he care that Molly fucking Taylor now hated him? He was Brian Kinney, the most desired man in Pittsburgh -- if not *America* -- and he didn’t need some little breeder-in-training’s approval. So what if she preferred him over the fucking fiddler -- incidentally showing a great deal more taste and sophistication than what’s-his-name, her brother -- or that she even liked him enough to ask him to take her brother back? 

What the fuck did he care that he’d made a little blonde moppet cry? That was practically his fucking *hobby* if the past two years were anything to go by. Double points if said moppets went by the name of Taylor!

Brian stomped over to the kitchen and looked for something small, brightly colored and highly illegal to take the edge off his hangover and his increasingly shitty mood.

He *definitely* didn’t care that the kid -- what was his name again -- uh …Thingy! Yeah, how was it his problem if *Thingy* wasn’t enjoying the hell out of his new, romantic, fucking *perfect* boyfriend? Brian could care fucking *less*. Brian -- as he had insisted savagely to anyone that looked at him sideways over the three months since he had shoved the kid off his very own Kinney cliff – was *fine*. Brian could *give* a shit. Brian was…

“FUCK!”

Brian stomped back over to the sofa, snatched the phone up and keyed a number he would never admit to having memorized into the keypad with savage stabs of his finger. He stood grinding his teeth, foot tapping as he listened to the phone ring and prayed that Jennifer wouldn’t pick up.

“H…hello?”

“Molly?”

“I d…don’t want to t…talk to you!”

“MOLLY!” Brian was torn between fury and disbelief when he heard the buzz of the phone line in his ear and realized that he’d been hung up on -- by a fucking eight year old *girl* -- for the second time in under five minutes. “MOLLY!”

He stabbed so hard at the phone keypad as he pressed redial that he sent the handset flying out of his hand and under the sofa. “FOR FUCK’S SAKE!” Mentally cursing every Taylor on the face of the planet, Brian got on his hands and knees -- not a position normally associated with the eternal Top of Liberty Avenue -- and scrabbled angrily under the sofa for his runaway phone. Nearly growling as he dislodged several sheets of paper when his hand flailed around, he wedged his arm further forward and his fingers brushed the plastic casing of the phone. He crooked his fingers, hooked the phone and flicked it out to rebound off his kneecap.

“Ow, fuck!” By now way past pissed and moving into homicidal territory, Brian once more pressed redial and connect and then flopped back on his butt to lean against the sofa and glare at the ceiling as he waited for Molly to pick up.

“*What*?”

Brain’s teeth ground together at the sulky yell and snapped, “Hang up on me again, you little shit, and I’ll hunt you down and beat the fucking *crap* out of you.” His teeth ground harder as a defiant silence followed his pronouncement and he spat reluctantly, “I’ll give you cash not to hang up, okay?”

Brian didn’t need to see Molly’s expression as the suddenly calculating tone in her voice spoke volumes. “How much cash?”

“Ten bucks.”

A girlish snort sounded. “Twenty! You were *really* mean.”

“Jesus Christ,” Brian pinched the bridge of his nose and looked down at the floor, “Fine. Twenty. I’m mailing it as we speak.” He frowned as he stared downwards and saw that the pieces of paper he’d dislodged under the sofa were several snapshots of a family dinner around Debbie’s kitchen table.

A hesitant giggle sounded from Molly. “You are *not*.” She paused and then said hopefully, “Really?”

“Really.” Brian answered absently as he picked out a picture from the bunch and found himself staring at a candid snapshot of himself and Justin, his twink nestled back against his chest with Brain’s arms wrapped around his waist as they laughed with Vic. He held the picture up for a long moment, eyes unconsciously softening, as he looked at their faces so close together and so obviously happy before he took a deep, shaky breath. “Molly?”

“Yes, Brian?” Molly -- sounding much more chipper now that she had been told some cash would shortly be in her hot, sticky little hands -- giggled into the phone. “Are you going to say sorry for being so mean now?”

Brian laughed. “The fuck I am, that’s what the cash is for.” He kept his eyes fixed on Justin’s face as he made a decision. “How would you like to make another twenty dollars?”

“Wow!” Molly sounded like she was going to wet herself from sheer glee. “Really? Okay! What do I have to do?”

Brian grinned horribly and in a way that would have had a certain Mister Taylor wetting himself right along with his little sister if he’d been around to see it. “Tell me all about Justin and his fucking fiddler.” The grin widened. “And don’t leave *anything* out.” 

~*~*~*

TBC.


End file.
